Madness
by TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: There's something wrong with Sherlock, but what?
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock started to shout. John could hear him from his bedroom. What Sherlock was shouting at he didn't know, but John thought best to stay where he was for the time being because Sherlock seemed aggravated and John didn't know what was actually going on in the room below. Sherlock continued to shout though. John thought it would die over soon, but it didn't, not really. What was going on? Who, or what, was he shouting at? He now thought it best to go and see what was going on and to see if he could maybe calm Sherlock down. So, he left his bedroom and ran down the stairs to Sherlock's room. He knocked gently on the door and got no answer. He tried once more, but after no reply again he decided to just go in. John could see while peering his head around the door that Sherlock wasn't in the living room. He could hear the shouting coming from Sherlock's bedroom. It had died a little bit down now, thank God. John sighed and went in. He knocked once on Sherlock's bedroom door. "What?!" Sherlock shouted viciously. John jumped a little as he did not expect such a shout, but then he opened the door slightly. Sherlock seemed to be in a right state; he was wearing his blue dressing gown and he was rushing around his room like a maniac. He seemed to be puzzled by something, God knows what.

"Sherlock, is everything alright? Why are you shouting?" John asked, trying to stay calm. Sherlock paced his room, panting.

"No. No, it's not alright. This is ridiculous." Sherlock said frustrated by his own words as he turned to face John. John took one look at him and could see straight away something was incredibly wrong. Yes, Sherlock rarely got sleep, but clearly he hadn't slept in days, maybe a week or so. He had bags under his eyes and his face was outrageously pale. Clearly he'd hardly eaten either.

John tried to calm Sherlock down, but nothing worked. "Sherlock, calm down." John said while reaching his left hand out to comfort and calm Sherlock. He slowly walked in and closed the door behind him. Sherlock still wasn't calm; he was quite angry but he wouldn't explain it. "What is wrong? What's ridiculous?" Sherlock stared at his friend for a moment like he was an idiot. He thought maybe he'd have figured it out. But it wasn't all so obvious when it came to the emotionless detective.

"I didn't solve the case quickly." Sherlock shouted as he threw his hands up in the air like he was giving up. John sighed with relief and Sherlock stared at him once more.

"That's what this is all about? I thought it was something serious." John could see this had made Sherlock extremely more livid than he had been before, so he quickly retreated. "What I mean is that it didn't take you that long, and it was quite a hard case."

"A hard case?" Sherlock scoffed. "It was as simple as could be and some how I screwed it up; me." John shook his head and sighed.

"Why are you letting this bother you so much?"

"Because I know that something made this happen."

"Maybe it's because you haven't slept or eaten since God knows when?" Sherlock was about to shout, but he stopped himself as he didn't want to explain himself. He knew exactly why he hadn't been sleeping, but he couldn't explain it or people would think he'd gone mad or something.

"I just... I can't work. I can't concentrate on anything anymore. Every little thing drives me insane." Sherlock screamed. Every word that came out of his mouth seemed to infuriate him even more; he couldn't control his rage.

"Sherlock, just calm down." John managed to place his hands on Sherlock's shoulders and sit him on the bed. Sherlock hadn't been like this ever, John was puzzled and confused to what was going on. What did Sherlock mean when he said he can't work? Or when he said that something made it happen? Why hadn't he been sleeping? These were all questions John had no clue where he would find the answers to or what they could be, so he tried to avoid them for the time being. "I'll make you a cup of tea." John let go of Sherlock's shoulders and left him sat on the bed. He wandered into the kitchen trying to figure out what the hell just happened and why.

Later on, Sherlock staggered into the living room where John was sat reading a newspaper. Sherlock wandered in and threw himself onto the sofa. John put the newspaper down and looked at Sherlock seriously. "Sherlock," John sighed. "What just happened?" Sherlock closed his eyes softly and exhaled slowly. "Sherlock, I'm serious. What's going on?" Sherlock didn't answer. He refused to. He could feel his heart pounding every time John mentioned it. He could feel his body shiver and shake all the time because he was scared and angry. He could hear the voices in his head all of the time. When he tried to sleep they were there. When he tried to do his work they were there. All the time they would be there. He once was able to drown them out, but now it had somehow become harder to handle. They were drowning his real thoughts out now, and Sherlock couldn't cope.

Soon, Sherlock decided it would be best to act natural so John didn't suspect anything. He didn't want John to know anything until it was absolutely vital; he was convinced that he would eventually be able to get rid of the voices again. So, he sat at his desk and inspected some notes from earlier cases to try and refresh his memory and to put it all to the test to work on his skills. This occupied his mind for a little while, but the voices soon came back. John sat watching him from the armchair. He could see Sherlock seemed to be aggravated by something. Sometimes he would see him close his eyes tightly or grunt in pain quickly so John wouldn't notice, even though it was quite clear. Eventually, John decided he was sick of sitting waiting for Sherlock to choose whether to tell him what was wrong, so he went to his bedroom to get something.

When John came back down he stood outside the door for a few seconds. He was about to walk in straight away until he heard Sherlock whispering angrily to somebody. However, he never heard a second voice and he was sure no one else had visited the flat that day. He couldn't make out much of what Sherlock was saying, just that it was clear he was angry and frustrated. Soon, he walked in when he thought Sherlock was done. Sherlock watched as the door opened suddenly so he shut himself up and then buried himself back into the notes. Then, John walked in and stood in the doorway. "So," he said nervously. "Have you just been reading them while I've been sat upstairs?" Sherlock looked up at John and pretended everything was completely normal.

"Oh, you left? I didn't notice." John nodded suspiciously.

"Anyway, we're going out soon." Sherlock looked at him confused. "Yeah, uh, we're joining Lestrade and Molly for dinner. Thought it might get your mind off all the cases and stuff." Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes.

"John, I will not be attending this, but feel free to go." Sherlock knew it would be best to just stay at home in case anything happened. Plus, he did really hate going to dinner with other people, so it was normal behaviour for him.

"Sherlock, please." Sherlock shook his head. "If you don't then I guess you won't be able to control what I say." John smirked. He felt guilty for blackmailing Sherlock like this, but he had to occupy him and find out what was troubling him. Sherlock stared at him. "Maybe they'll find out about a certain event this morning." Sherlock scowled at him, but he knew he wasn't bluffing. "So, will you come?"


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock and John arrived at the restaurant where they were to meet Lestrade and Molly. They walked in and John went over to the desk to ask about the table. Sherlock stood and looked around. He could hear everybody talking to one another; every conversation and discussion. This made the voices in his head worse. The noise was killing him. It was driving him crazy and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't tell anybody either as he didn't want them to know what was going on inside his mind.

John came over and then pointed Sherlock to a table. There they both found Lestrade and Molly sat, smiling and chatting. Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. John tried to ignore it and practically pushed him over to it. "Oh, hi." Molly smiled nervously at Sherlock.

"Didn't think you'd actually come." Lestrade smiled and shook both of their hands. John and Sherlock sat down beside each other and smiled at the pair. Sherlock hadn't spoken a word since they'd entered and he wasn't planning on doing so either. John had already explained to Lestrade that Sherlock hadn't been acting like himself, so Lestrade was prepared for anything, he thought.

Eventually they had all ordered something. John had to force Sherlock to order something because he'd been refusing to eat for so long. Sherlock took a sip of his water quickly and then placed it back on the table. John, Molly and Lestrade began to make conversation with each other. They tried to jester Sherlock to join in, but he didn't bother trying. He listened to them chat loudly and laugh. He listened to their voices and their laughter and it drove him mad. All of the noise and commotion was hurting his head until he could no longer take it. He suddenly put his fork down after using it to move his food around the plate, and he stood up. Everyone at the table looked towards him. "If you'll excuse me," Sherlock smiled politely. "I'm just going to use the restroom." Before anyone could reply, he walked towards the bathroom.

Sherlock washed his hands and then rubbed his face with them. He looked in the mirror as water dripped off of his face slowly. He took a deep breath in and out and stared at himself. The voices had gotten louder. A lot louder. This was getting hard to bare. He couldn't handle it anymore. "What's happening to me?" He sighed as he looked deeply into the mirror. Before anything else happened, another man appeared. He smiled to Sherlock and then walked into a cubical. Sherlock sighed and then left.

He came out and could hardly stand up. He could hear all of the noise once more. Every little voice. He walked weakly towards his table. His eyesight began to go incredibly blurry and he was struggling to do anything. He finally reached his table, and just stood for a moment. "Sherlock," John could see something was wrong with his friend. "What's wrong?" Even John's words were now being drowned out by the voices inside his head. He looked at John, but his vision was worse now. He tried to get a clear picture, but nothing worked. Lestrade and Molly stared at him trying to figure out whether he was all right or not. "Sherlock?" Sherlock's heart pounded.

"Stop... stop it..." Sherlock began to speak; it was more of a whisper. Before he had a chance to explain, his eyes rolled back into his head and he just collapsed. Everybody in the restaurant turned to face Sherlock's direction who was now lying on the floor unconscious. John and Lestrade quickly got up from their seats and John kneeled beside him Lestrade and Molly watched from the side and waited until John asked for their help. He could see that everybody in the restaurant was shocked.

"He needs help!" somebody shouted. "Call an ambulance!"

"It's all right; I'm a doctor." John tried to reassure her. He shook Sherlock to try and wake him up, but it didn't work. "I need water." He whispered. "I need water." He shouted. Lestrade seemed alarmed and then grabbed Sherlock's water from the table. He passed it to John, a little spilt onto the floor. Everyone waited anxiously. John had no other option; Sherlock wouldn't respond. He quickly poured some of the water onto Sherlock's face to wake him. It worked. The water was freezing so it worked quickly. "Sherlock, Sherlock..." John sighed in relief as Sherlock opened his eyes.

"What... what happened?" Sherlock whispered. "Why am I wet?" he could feel the water slithering down off his face. Everybody in the restaurant sighed with relief. John helped Sherlock up and held onto him tight. Lestrade grabbed the other side and Molly followed as they helped him walk out.

Sherlock was hardly aware of anything still, and he was incredibly dizzy. His eyes kept closing for a long period of time and he was nearly out of it completely once more. "Do you fancy a lift?" he asked John. John would normally refuse, but he wouldn't be able to get Sherlock home on his own when he was in that state. So, Lestrade and he carried Sherlock to the car. They both said goodbye to Molly who was still slightly in shock and then entered the car.

Sherlock more or less lay asleep on the back seats, so John got in the front with Lestrade. "When you said he wasn't himself," Lestrade said, not taking his eyes from the road. "I didn't think it was this serious."

"Yeah... well, neither did I." John sighed. "He'd been acting strange this morning, but he wouldn't tell me why."

"How so?"

"I heard him shouting to himself this morning and he wouldn't tell me why."

"Yeah, but that's usual Sherlock. He talks to himself all of the time."

"Yeah, but I am sure I heard him later on talking to somebody else. I definitely heard him say the word 'you'." Lestrade nodded. "And there's that case. What took him so long?" Lestrade sighed.

"What do you think it is?" John thought he had an idea, but he didn't want to believe it.

"Maybe... maybe he's just under a lot of pressure?" Lestrade scoffed.

"Sherlock thrives under pressure, John."

"Yeah... yeah, I know." John nodded. "I guess I don't know."

"Listen, whatever it is, it's clearly bad. You've told me he's had no sleep, which I noticed anyway, and that he's apparently talking to somebody that's not actually there." John sighed. Lestrade suddenly stopped the car outside of Baker Street and turned to John who looked back. "He needs help, John. If you won't get him help then at least call Mycroft. He might be able to tell you something, maybe. Either way, there's nothing you can do." John knew he was right. He nodded and then smiled. "Do you want some help getting him in?" John looked at his friend in the back and then nodded to Lestrade. Lestrade smiled and then they both exited the car to get Sherlock.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock suddenly woke up in his bed. It hadn't been long since he'd been put in there so John was sat in the living room to make sure his friend was going to be all right. "J... John?" he heard Sherlock calling from his bedroom. He sighed and pushed himself off the armchair to make his way to Sherlock's bedroom.

"John?" Sherlock said as John walked into his bedroom. He hadn't sat up at all; he lay in his bed like a sick child. His face was pale and he looked dreadful.

"Are you feeling all right?" John hated watching him suffer. It was awful, especially as he didn't understand what was wrong with him either.

"I, uh... I don't know." Sherlock seemed quite confused. "What happened? How did I... how did I get here?"

"Oh you, uh... you collapsed. At the restaurant. Lestrade and I brought you up. You were completely out. It wasn't that long ago, really." Sherlock nodded. "Why did it happen, Sherlock?" John tried to get Sherlock to feel he could tell him what was wrong. "One minute you were in the bathroom, then you come out and you collapse," John shook his head. "Now I just don't understand. You've been acting strange all week. Shouting to yourself and stuff. Whatever it is, I won't care. Just, please, explain it to me. Because I don't think you can go on like this; you can't cope." Sherlock sighed. He stayed silent. John just nodded as a sign that he was just going to give up, and then he left the room.

Soon, Sherlock entered the living room and laid himself on the sofa. John didn't bother to ask him anything more. He knew that Sherlock wasn't going answer willingly. It would probably take time. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Sherlock seemed surprised, but he thought it could be a client. John answered and found Mycroft stood there. "Hello, John." Sherlock heard his voice and knew exactly why he was there. John had called him to see if he could find out what was wrong. The last person Sherlock would tell would be his brother. John shook his hand and then let him walk in. "Sherlock." He nodded to his brother. Sherlock didn't even bother to look over. Mycroft looked at John and then towards the door, so John knew he should leave.

"I, uh... I'm just going to pop to shop." which he thought he should actually do because there was hardly any food in. He smiled at Mycroft and Sherlock and then left.

Mycroft sighed and stared at his brother who continued to look up at the ceiling. He grabbed a chair from the desk and then brought it to the side of the sofa. "Sherlock,"

"I don't know why John's called you; I'm perfectly fine. In fact, I've never felt better." Sherlock didn't take his eyes from the ceiling once, not even to glance at his brother.

"Sherlock," Mycroft stayed incredibly calm and it seemed that he was deeply concerned and worried about his brother. "John's told me that you've been talking to yourself-"

"Yes, and I do all the time."

"But you've been acting as if someone else is there. You are talking to somebody else. However, John said, when he came in there was nobody else there." Sherlock sighed. "Listen, Sherlock, you need help. Whether you want to admit it or not, you're ill. I know you're not going to tell me anything, but tell somebody. John is willing to help you." Mycroft could see he wasn't really getting through to Sherlock at all. "I can see you don't care. I will leave you to continue you with whatever you were doing. Not a case, I see. Seems you haven't had a case for a few days now. A week?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. Mycroft pushed himself up from the seat and put it back behind the desk. "Goodbye, Sherlock." Mycroft said as he walked out of the door.

As soon as Mycroft was in his car he called John. "Yes, there's definitely something wrong, but he won't talk to me."

"Didn't he say anything at all?"

"Nothing." Mycroft and John sighed. "John, if he'll speak to anyone it's you. However, you need to face reality now; Sherlock isn't like that. And what's happening, it isn't normal. You know this is psychological. If he gets any worse I want you to call me."

"All right."

Sherlock waited anxiously for John to arrive from the shops. The voices had been amplified since the night before. It was awful. He shouted at them. He jumped up from his seat and paced the room shouting. Mrs Hudson could hear everything, and she was worried to go up. She shouted up a couple of times, but there was no answer. She assumed he was on another one of his cases. Sherlock couldn't take it anymore. He knew that there was no end to the voices. The laughing in the back of his head. He ran out the door and stood at the top of the stairs. His heart began to race and it felt like it would break through his chest at any moment. His head began to spin and he suddenly felt incredibly dizzy. He needed to get John. He began to make his way down the stairs, but his head was spinning and his eyesight was becoming blurry. He was going too fast and he placed his left foot in front of his right and then suddenly tripped over it. He rolled down the stairs and hit the side of his forehead against the banister. Luckily, he didn't fall down too many steps, so he wasn't too badly hurt. Mrs Hudson had heard all of the banging and commotion and ran to the hallway before seeing Sherlock at the bottom of the stairs. The right side of his forehead had blood dripping down from it and Sherlock couldn't get up. She phoned John as soon as she could and he rushed home.

As John got in he threw the shopping bags down and rushed over to Sherlock's side. Sherlock wasn't unconscious, but he was slightly dazed and didn't seem to be with it. "Sherlock," John checked his forehead. "What happened? How did it happen?" Sherlock slowly brought his arm up and pointed at the stairs. His arm soon fell back down.

"I... I fell down the stairs."

"Did you hit anywhere else? Is anywhere else hurting?" John asked as he cleaned up the injury with a damp cloth Mrs Hudson had brought for him. Sherlock shook his head slowly; he had no energy to talk. "Right, we need to get you back up the stairs so I can stitch this." He said as he stood up. He then helped Sherlock up and then carried him up the stairs. He made sure Sherlock didn't trip over.

John sat stitching Sherlock's wound. Sherlock sat calmly on the desk chair. "What happened, Sherlock?" Sherlock was feeling a little better now. "How did it happen? You don't just fall down the stairs. You need to tell me something; I'm in the dark." Sherlock sighed and still refused to answer.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning John came down to the living room. Sherlock was already there and it was clear that he'd had no sleep. "No sleep, then?" Sherlock just shrugged. "I hardly had any sleep either, I kept hearing banging." John knew it had been Sherlock making all the noise last night. He still didn't have a reason for it though. "Why didn't you sleep?"

_**Nine already, Sherlock thought. Maybe he'd get some sleep that night. He decided he may as well try because he needed it. He just wanted to rest his eyes for a few hours. Why was it so impossible?**_

_** He lay in bed and shut his eyes. Then, he began to hear them once more. They became even louder whenever he tried to sleep. The laughter was always there. One of them was talking and arguing with Sherlock. Sherlock tossed and turned and tried to ignore them, but it was so hard. "Shut up! Just shut up!" he shouted as he jumped out of the bed. However, they wouldn't stop. They kept talking and arguing. So, Sherlock shouted. He screamed at them and argued back. He got so angry that he threw a book at the wall. It got so much for him that he began to cry, which he'd never have done before, and he fell to the floor. He smacked it with his fist several times until he just couldn't be bothered. He covered his ears with his hands and closed his eyes tightly. He then lay himself on the floor and just stayed still for a moment. "I need to get out of here." He told himself. Then, he got himself up, gathered himself together and then left the flat. **_

_** Although he'd never really been to one before, he decided to go to a bar. He thought alcohol would be the best way to drown out the voices. So, he ordered a lot of drinks that night. Eventually the barman had to kick him out. So, he wandered home. **_

_** He staggered through the front door and fell over. And smashed the door shut. He even struggled to get up the stairs he was so drunk. Eventually he went into the living room and fell asleep at his desk.**_

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" John sighed. "I know it was you last night. What were you doing? Mrs Hudson said she saw you and you looked... drunk." Sherlock tried to look surprised, but the hangover said otherwise. "When have you ever had a drink? You told me that it does something to your brain or something." John seemed confused as he tried to reason with his friend. "Please, tell me something because I don't really understand this." Maybe it was the alcohol, but Sherlock decided he best tell his friend what was going on because he knew he couldn't cope. Yes, the alcohol helped but he couldn't drink forever. Because, if he did, he wouldn't be able to work and that's what he was trying to do.

"There's..." Sherlock hesitated a little because of the hangover. "There's a voice in the back of my head; several, in fact." John listened carefully to what Sherlock was saying.

"And what do they say?"

"They laugh and they just talk all the time and it's driving me insane. They're always there. I used to be able to stop it... but it's hard."

"Sherlock, you need help. You can't think that you can stop them yourself." John had feared that this was what was happening. He had thought of it when he was going through Sherlock's behaviour and he wished it wouldn't come to that, even though it was highly likely. So, he tried to stay calm and not freak out so his friend would trust him.

"I don't need help." Sherlock insisted angrily. "I've controlled it before; I can do it again."

"But, Sherlock, this is bad."

"Please, John, just give me a chance to stop this." John had finished stitching and Sherlock looked at him. "Please. I will stop it." John felt he had no choice; his friend was insistent that he could manage and he wouldn't tell anybody else what was wrong. So, he sighed and nodded. "Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

John had decided it would be best to call Mycroft and just let him know a little of what Sherlock had told him. "We need to make him see somebody, John." Mycroft was insistent they took him to a therapist, but John felt like he would be betraying Sherlock and he knew Sherlock wouldn't cooperate if it was done behind his back. Even if it wasn't, he still wouldn't say a word.

"Why don't we wait?"

"The more we wait; the sicker he gets. Do you really believe he can beat this?"

"Yes!" John shouted. "Listen," he silenced his voice. "If we make Sherlock go to therapy he won't let me help him. I know he won't speak to them, and, if we get him to go and speak to someone, he will no longer speak to me. He won't tell me anything, and I promise you that." Mycroft sighed. He knew John was right and it was really the only suitable plan anybody had for the moment.

"Fine. However, I want you to call me if he gets any worse." John agreed and went to speak with Sherlock.

Just as John began to speak, his phone rang. He thought it would be better if he took it outside. "Hello?"

"John? It's Lestrade. I was wondering how Sherlock was?"

"He's not good." John sighed.

"Do you reckon he is all right to do a case?"

"Normally I'd say yes; it would probably take his mind off things. However, he's really not able to."

"Right, right. So, has he told you what it is?"

"Only a little, but I'm trying to get more out of him."

"Well, that's sort of good. Call me if there's anything I can do."

"Will do." Then, he hung up and went back to check in on Sherlock. He hadn't moved an inch from where he'd been since that morning.

All day Sherlock just sat at his desk. John had no idea what he was doing. He didn't know whether he was in pain or aggravated because he showed no sign of it, but he didn't move at all. John knew he'd have to do something to help Sherlock sleep that night. Fortunately, he had some sleeping pills that he thought would do the trick, so he slipped them in Sherlock's tea before he went to bed himself.

John walked over to Sherlock slowly with his cup of tea in his hand. He placed it down onto the desk where Sherlock was working and smiled. "There you go." Sherlock looked down at the hot beverage.

"Thank you." Normally Sherlock would have refused, but he had hardly drunk all day which isn't good. He grabbed a hold of the handle and brought the cup closer to his mouth. He began to take a few sips of it as he took a look at the notes that lay on the desk in front of him. John smiled to himself as he sat down in the armchair. He thought Sherlock might suspect something, but luckily his tired mind didn't.

John decided it would be better if he stayed with Sherlock to see if he was all right taking the pill. He would stay with him until the pill had kicked in; take him to bed and then go up to his own bed. So, he sat down in his armchair and began to read the newspaper.

Sherlock sat staring at the notes. His eye sight had begun to go blurry and he could hardly concentrate on anything that was in front of him. He squinted at the writing on the paper, but it was still no use. Suddenly, his eyelids began to get heavier and heavier. He tried and tried to keep them open, but he just couldn't. His head began to drop, as did his body. He kept trying to keep himself awake; he didn't know why it was happening. Yes, he was tired, but he was normally able to control himself. He slowly placed his right hand under his chin to try and keep his head up, but his elbow slipped from the edge and his head fell. He couldn't stop it. John noticed him falling asleep, so he quickly went over to him. "Sherlock," he said as he placed one hand on Sherlock's back. "You need some sleep, go to bed." Sherlock tried to shrug him away, but he got more tired by the second, so he let John help him up and escort him to bed. Sherlock practically fell asleep straight away so John was able to go to his own bed sooner.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, John woke up after a goodnight's sleep. He had heard nothing all night, so he thought that the sleeping pill had done Sherlock a favour. He wandered down into the living room and there was no sign of Sherlock in there or in the kitchen, so he assumed he must still be asleep. He knew he hadn't slept in a long time, so he sat in the living room and read a newspaper while he waited for his friend to wake up.

Time past quickly and Sherlock still hadn't woken up. John wondered whether he'd gone out or something and wasn't really asleep, so he decided to check on him. He knocked on Sherlock's bedroom door gently. There was no reply. He put his ear up to the door and listened. He could hear Sherlock speaking to himself again. However, his voice sounded shaky and panicky, so he quickly opened the door. What he found was something he didn't expect; Sherlock was sat in the corner of his room. His legs had been drawn into his chest and his head was buried into his knees. He was shaking and it sounded like he was crying.

Sherlock had heard John enter, so he brought his head up slowly. "Sherlock," John said as he put his hand out to help him. Sherlock stared at him. He was still shaking and he looked awful.

"John... John, please. My head hurts. Help me..." Sherlock begged John to do something as he couldn't take much more of it all. John approached him slowly in case he was a danger.

"How? How can I help you?"

"Just do something!" Sherlock shouted. "Please..." John didn't know what he could do, so he told Sherlock to stay there and he'd get help.

John quickly went into the living room to grab his mobile. "Mycroft?"

"What is it, John?" Mycroft knew that there was something wrong with his brother because of John's voice.

"I... I don't know, it's weird. He's shaking and he's just sat in the corner of his room crying. He asked me to help him, but I don't know what to do... He keeps talking to himself; arguing. He said he can't shut them up and that his head hurts."

"John, calm down, I'm on my way." John took a deep breath in as he hung up. He then decided it would be best if he went to check on his friend. So, he slowly wandered back into the bedroom. Sherlock was in exactly the same state as before, maybe a little worse. He'd hoped that maybe he'd be a little better, but no, he was in fact worse.

Soon, Mycroft had arrived. John was sat patiently in the living room. He'd gone to try and calm Sherlock a couple of times, but it ended up in him being thrown out by Sherlock. He was actually quite scared. He was scared to enter the room in case Sherlock hurt him. Or hurt himself. He was so worried that he was hurting himself, but he was scared for his own safety, so he would have to wait for Mycroft before entering as he daren't go in alone.

"Where's my brother?"

"In his bedroom. Be careful, he's really not himself." John warned Mycroft as he followed him into the bedroom. Mycroft told John to wait at the door while he went over to his brother in the corner. He went to place his hand on Sherlock's back, but it was knocked away.

"Sherlock, don't worry." Mycroft said reassuringly as he moved his hands away and kneeled down. "I'm here to help you."

"I... I don't need help..." Sherlock cried.

"You do. John tells me you're hearing voices, in your head." Sherlock continued to shake. "You need help. I want to help you."

"But... but they won't stop... they won't shut up. I just want them to leave me alone, but they won't." Sherlock's voice was shaking.

"I'll try and stop them. I can help you, so can John. You have to let us try. Don't worry; you're going to be fine. Absolutely fine."

"But what if they won't go?"

"I won't let that happen." John watched for a moment. He saw how much Mycroft actually cared about his brother. He'd never seen so much compassion from him. It was strange because they always acted as if they were so far apart, but they _did_ care about one another. "Will you let me help you?" Sherlock didn't say a word. "Sherlock, I want to help you, but you have to let me." Mycroft placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder; this time it wasn't batted away. "Will you let me help you?" Sherlock looked to his brother. He could see in his eyes that he wasn't lying; he would help him and he would try his best. So, he nodded and let Mycroft help him up. "I'm going to take you somewhere now; you can always come back if you don't like it, but give it a go." Mycroft said to Sherlock as he walked him out of the flat. John helped as much as he could to get Sherlock into Mycroft's car.

"Sherlock, I'm here if you need me." John smiled as Sherlock sat in the car. Sherlock didn't say a word. John felt that Sherlock was mad at him for calling his brother even though he wanted his help. And John couldn't help but feel guilty even though he was helping him a lot. Mycroft thanked him for what he'd done, and then he drove away. John stood outside for a moment wondering whether he made the right choice. Of course he had. There'd be no way he would have been able to help Sherlock in the state he was in. No way.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Maybe I should do it. Sherlock began to tell himself as he stood on the roof of St Bart's as he had done once before with the same intention. Except, this time, there was no way out. He wanted to end everything. That'd stop the voices in his head. It would shut them up once and for all and he'd be out of the nightmare, the never ending nightmare that drove him insane. He stood staring at the ground watching everyone continuing with their lives, nobody having a clue that he was about to jump. He took a few deep breaths in and out as he thought to himself. The voices were still there, they were laughing louder and louder. He told them he'd do it if they didn't shut up, but they laughed at him. They didn't believe he'd do it. He didn't want to. He just wanted the voices to go and doing this would save him from them and end his misery. Obviously there was therapy as his brother had suggested. However, he knew he'd be locked up in one of those mad houses and he'd just become even more insane just being in there. He didn't want it anymore. He wanted help; he wanted the voices to end, but he didn't want a stranger helping him. He wanted John to be able to help. If John could help him cope then he'd be able to keep going with everything, continue cases. However, John couldn't help him in anyway at all. He knew John tried, but he just couldn't. Now this was the only option. Jumping was the only way to solve this. To solve it all. He looked down once more. He felt scared. His body began to shake a little. The voices began to get louder and louder. He couldn't take it all anymore.**_

"Sherlock?!" John shouted as he ran into Bart's. Molly had let him and was trying to keep up with him as he ran around the building searching for his friend.

"John, what's going on?" Molly tried to catch her breath.

"I need to find Sherlock. I have a feeling he's going to do, or has done, a stupid thing." Molly knew straight away what he was talking about.

"If he'd already done it then we'd know about it, so you can still get to him in time if that's where he is." Molly tried to be reassuring, and John knew what she meant. So he smiled quickly and then ran up to the roof. No sign of Sherlock. He took a look around everywhere and then looked onto the ground, but Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. John didn't understand it. He scratched his head in confusion and turned to Molly.

"He's... he's not here. But that's... that's... Where could he possibly be if not here?" Molly didn't know what to suggest as she still didn't fully understand w_hy_ he'd be up there. What had been going on? John took his phone from his pocket and phoned Mycroft.

"John, is he there? Did you get there in time?"

"He's not here. I... I don't know where he is." John sighed as he checked once more.

"How can he not be there?" Mycroft was as puzzled as John. "Lestrade and I shall carry on searching around and you make sure he's not in the building." John nodded and then told him he'd try to find Sherlock.

Sherlock sat in the corner of the lab. Not doing anything at all. He just stared into space as the world carried on moving. His knees were tucked into his chest once more, but he wasn't in the same state as this morning. He almost seemed calm. However, the voices were still carrying on inside of his head. So, he'd stopped caring about the real world and let the voices continue to talk and argue and laugh. He didn't care anymore. Everything had become too much and he knew he couldn't cope. There was no way out of this anymore. He had nothing left.

John walked in slowly after seeing him. He was very quiet and calm and made his way over to him patiently. Sherlock didn't bother to look to him. He hardly even noticed he was there. "Sherlock?" John got closer to him. "Sherlock, are you alright?" Sherlock didn't reply. John knew he wasn't, so he began to try to help him up. Sherlock didn't attempt to escape John's hands as he escorted him out of the lab. He didn't say a word, just continued to stare at nothing. Mycroft was waiting outside as Molly had called him to tell him they'd found Sherlock. Before John took Sherlock to his brother, he tried to get him to talk. "Sherlock..." John sighed. "Sherlock, what were you planning on doing here?" Sherlock stared at him for a moment. "Sherlock, tell me." John made sure to look reassuring so Sherlock would feel safe.

"I... I think you know." Sherlock said quietly. John sighed and then Sherlock went back to his blank expression. John tried to get his attention once more, but Sherlock didn't bother to speak. He didn't want to. He hated every moment of his life now and he knew it was going to get worse.

Mycroft took Sherlock away in his car once more. He'd offered John a lift home, but John thought it'd be best if he didn't as he didn't want to leave Sherlock when he left to the flat and Sherlock would be taken somewhere else. So if John didn't get in then Sherlock wouldn't know that he was being taken away. John couldn't help but cry a little as he was scared and incredibly upset that his friend was this way. He didn't know Sherlock was like this. He thought he'd control it like he had apparently last time this sort of thing happened. Molly then took him inside for a drink as she felt sorry for both him and Sherlock.


End file.
